cigarette smoke along the winter snow
by pepperpepperoni
Summary: He's sure that he's never met anyone like her because she's Veronica Lodge and Veronica Lodge is a unique specimen on her own.


**he takes her in large doses**

It's Christmastime when he catches her outside the Whyt Wyrm, a lit cigarette dangling loosely on her matte-tinted thin lips.

"Does Archie know about this?" he asks, accompanying her through the steady snow that's drowning Riverdale and its residents. They watch the white trees and the accumulating white that all over the lot, comforted by the fact that they're not alone this time of year.

"Why should he know?" she responds back after a few moments. She releases the gray smoke and he watches it mingle with the snowflakes and the cold air. With a sardonic smile, Veronica admits, "He's gotten bored of me."

"Isn't it the other way around?" Jughead can't help but remark sarcastically.

She glances at him, not bothering to reply or to drop her unsettling smile, so he is unable to figure out whether it _is_ the other way around.

"What about you?" she speaks after another a short silence between them. "Don't you have a girlfriend to spend the holidays with?"

"Did you actually end your sentence with a preposition?" Jughead teases. He's grinning now, hands deep inside his Serpents leather jacket, and eyes crinkling at the end with amusement. It's his turn, he decides, to withhold information.

Veronica flicks the cigarette ashes at him, but it lands uselessly at the snow-covered ground. Still, she's chuckling herself and he decides that it's the realest moment he'll ever have with Veronica Lodge; here, outside the Whyte Wyrm, with full-on makeup, the stench of cigarettes and amused glances between them.

"You should go inside," she suggests, "you're gonna freeze out here with only just that."

"Maybe I can take a drag to warm myself," he suggests differently.

She shakes her head, but passes the cancer stick. She's facing him now, eyes twinkling and mouth twisted in a conniving smirk, before warning him, "Don't inhale the smoke, Jones."

He scoffs, "I know how to do this, Lodge," and ignores the disbelief in her face.

Jughead takes a long drag before smoothly puffing out the gray smoke. He wonders briefly if Veronica had found it cool, and then he coughs loudly, having caught a bit of the smoke inside his throat. Embarrassed, he covers his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he passes the stick to a laughing Veronica.

"Sorry, Jones," she says in between laughter when he sends a deadly glare at her direction. She takes back the cigarette, but not without teasing, "Too much for you, Ray Liotta?"

"Shuddup," he grumbles as the tips of his ears reddening badly, but he'll convince himself that it's associated with the sudden drop in temperature. He defends himself, because he's Jughead Jones and he has a reputation to protect, "I haven't smoked in a long time."

"Okay, okay," Veronica says in comfort as she stifles her laugh. With a small grin and a lighter mood than when Jughead arrived, she tells him, "You'd be better off not getting addicted to these stupid sticks."

"And _you_ are?" he blurts out in incredulity.

"Well, Jones, hate to break it to you," she tells him candidly, "but you have a gang to run."

She's taking another drag as he looks over to her with knitted eyebrows, gaped lips, and cold blood. He watches her nonchalance bounce to her face and he tries to contemplate when and where exactly Veronica Lodge completely changed.

As if knowing what he's thinking, Veronica sighs, "Don't ponder on it too much."

But he does, and he continues to do so the next coming days.

* * *

When school starts again at Riverdale High, Veronica and Jughead do not bother seeking the other one out.

Jughead decides that their friendship is strictly constricted to the snowy afternoons outside Whyte Wyrm in between conversations that range from old classic films to personal philosophies in life and the same stench of cigarettes that he has become accustomed to.

The snow is still unrelenting in the crisp cool air of early January. Everyone snuggles in their large coats or heavy jackets, but he's still wearing his Serpents jacket because it's the principle of the thing and not because he has no other jackets in his closet as Veronica had implied.

"Hey, Jug," Archie greets while Jughead passes by the redhead's locker. The thinner boy nods in reply, and they walk step-by-step to homeroom.

"Had an interesting break, Arch?" Jughead questions before stuffing his rather cold hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Well, I mean, I'm just glad I spent the holidays with mom and dad, you know?" he replies as he swings his bag over his shoulders casually. He nods at the familiar faces that they pass by and Jughead cannot help but think how different they actually are.

"Yeah, sure," Jughead answers because he doesn't know what else to answer. He doesn't remember (or at least won't _try_ to remember) the last time he's spent time with his actual nuclear family, so he can't say that he understands Archie's relief at his complete household. Before Archie can pursue the topic any further, Jughead immediately asks the question that's been living in the back of his mind since the start of the holidays, "How're you and Veronica?"

His best friend pauses in the middle of the bustling hallway, earning him a few glares and scowls at the sudden traffic. Gulping, Archie actually looks guilty as he mumbles out, "She's gotten bored of me. We broke it off before the holidays."

" _Really?_ " Jughead says in shock.

They start walking again, a bit more tense this time.

"I'm surprised you didn't know about it, Jug," Archie admits, "I figured Veronica had already blabbed to the whole town that we're already over."

Jughead's not too sure about that seeing as Cheryl (who's he grown familiar with due to her relationship with Toni) is still convinced that the two lovebirds is still going strong in their junior year together. He didn't bother correcting her, because even he's not sure himself since Veronica's responses are as vague as can be.

"What about you and Betts?" Archie inquires in return.

"I dunno, man," Jughead answers with a shrug. "We haven't been talking ever since."

"I'm sure you guys will work it out," Archie comforts, clasping his best friend's shoulder as an attempt of affection.

Jughead gives Archie a thankful smile, but it doesn't quite cover his blank eyes.

* * *

He finds her outside Whyte Wyrm again a week after. The snow is thicker than last time, the trees still drowning in white, and there's only the whooshing of the wind to keep them company. Her cigarette's tangled in her fingers, slowly burning smaller.

"So, Mia Wallace, I heard something interesting from Archie," he starts as he steps at her side, leaving a good space between them, something which he tries his best not to overstep. He sneaks a look, noticing the tightness in her expression and he almost apologizes when she replies.

"What is it?"

"That he claims it's the other way around."

She chuckles, her expression slowly loosening. He inhales sharply at the way her eyes glance at him with such affection and tenderness that he almost misses what she's saying, "I also heard something interesting from Betty."

"And what would that be?" he breezily replies, averting his gaze at the raven haired princess.

"That you two had a fight before she left," she says. Once again, she lets the cancer stick lay at the middle of her mouth and then drags it out with a trail of smoke appearing along.

Jughead does not reply, and Veronica does not prod. So, they stew in their silence, not budging and with no plans to leave. He's still wearing his Serpents jacket and she's wearing a cashmere coat, and he thinks that their choice of clothing explains themselves so well but he also thinks that the two of them could not be anymore similar. They're opposites yet they're identical at the same time.

Veronica breaks the silence once again with a question, "Did you just call me Mia Wallace?"

He grins guiltily and she huffs, teasing her friend, "You really need to stop watching Pulp Fiction."

"Pulp Fiction is a masterpiece and Quentin Tarantino is a master of film—don't fight me on this," Jughead proudly tells her, puffing out his chest for dramatics.

"All right, all right," she's saying with a suppressed chuckle, "I get it. I don't need another hour-long explanation on why Tarantino's the best filmmaker of all time."

"I'm glad I made you see the light, Lodge. While I appreciate Wes Anderson, he just doesn't compare to the complexity of a Tarantino film," he comments, eyes gleaming as he waits for her outburst.

And she does; eyes daring and pose erratic, she proclaims, "Wes Anderson movies focuses on character, unlike the graphic violence from your so-called 'master of film.'"

He's grinning ear to ear now, and she's matching his sudden adrenaline. They talk with such passion and urgency that Jughead wishes he didn't decide suddenly that they shouldn't talk in school because the way her eyebrows twitch and her nostrils flare makes his heart burn a little brighter somehow.

* * *

Betty and Archie get together before winter comes to a close. It's inevitable; Kevin had admitted during fourth period, pointedly looking at Jughead but keeping the rest of the audience's attention, they've always been endgame since their childhood.

And Jughead agrees because, even if he had found such a sweet love with Betty, he knew in the back of his mind that Betty has always been in love with Archie. Betty and Archie. Archie and Betty. They're perfect and innocent and unbridled, all at the same time. Jughead and Betty had always been clashing and complex and satisfying. It had been good when it lasted, but it was not what Betty deserves.

He's sure he'll find Veronica at Whyte Wyrm, but she's surprised him again when he sees her hidden under the bleachers, frantically trying to ignite a small lighter.

"Need help, Lodge?" Jughead asks, accompanying her in the damp and dirty hiding spot.

Her sigh is shaky and tired. She hands him the lighter and he easily ignites it with his own steady hands as she lights her cigarette. Veronica takes a long drag of the cigarette with trembling hands and glassy eyes, and Jughead thinks he's never seen her so vulnerable and in such a mess. He doesn't speak, afraid that his voice might break as well.

"I broke up with Archie," Veronica admits in the dark and in the smoke, her eyes blinking and unblinking, her mouth thin and dry. "I thought I wasn't good enough for him."

Jughead nods, empathic. He admits his own secrets as well, "Our fight was about the Serpents. She asked me to leave or she will, so I let her go."

Veronica chuckles through her sobs, letting her cigarette drop on the damp dead grass, "We're horrible people, aren't we?"

He takes her in his arms, her trembles, her insecurities, her fears, her regrets, and whispers softly in her ear, "We're what we decide to be, Veronica."

She continues sobbing, so he continues to hold her.

* * *

They decide to rebuild themselves from scratch.

He starts wearing other jackets and she starts wearing nicotine patches. Their friendship extends during class hours as they mutter words of encouragement when the other's barely living on. She slowly starts reverting to her old self, pre-cigarettes and bad decisions, and he starts his novel again and cuts off a few hours of his time from the Serpents.

A lot of his friends remark that he's not looking so tired anymore these past few days.

Sometimes, they walk along the sidewalks and she tells him of her imprisoned father and her distant mother and how she hates coming back home while he tells her of the expectations his father have and his own anxieties as a leader and how he feels consumed when they look at him with such hopeful eyes. Their usual space between them is non-existent now as Veronica latches her arms against his as they piece together their respective lives.

"Too many things happened last year for us to ignore them," Veronica remarks one day as they take the trail from the Whyte Wyrm to the Pembrooke.

"It's all too much," Jughead agrees from behind.

Veronica glances back at him with a soft smile, hands behind a simple polyester coat. She's sincere this time, eyes narrow and straight, face devoid of any teasing, and eyebrows relaxed considerably. She takes her time to say, "Thank you, Jughead."

His heart grows three sizes larger as he musters out, "Thank you, too, Veronica."

Tears erupt from the corner of her eyes while she closes the distance between them with a few short strides and hugs him tightly, her hands around his neck and her face buried in his gray sweater. He has no problems hugging her back, arms tightly snaking around her waist, his nose buried at the crook of her neck. She smells like heaven and expensive, but not of cigarettes.

"I wouldn't have… I couldn't be… you're just…" Veronica stutters, voice muffled from burying herself in his clothes. He's sure that she's tearing up, so he pulls her in tighter, afraid to let go for a single second.

"It's okay, I understand," he mumbles to her raven hair.

She pushes him away and, true enough, her eyes are glassy once again and her eyelashes dripping wet. He still has his arms around her waist while hers landed on his chest. Indignant, she exclaims, "No, you don't!"

He's confused, so she explains, "You're amazing, Jug. I don't know why you hang out with such a scam like me, but it's—"

"You're not a scam, Veronica," Jughead immediately intercepts, "You're smart, beautiful and amazing and—" he thinks of Truman Capote, "a free spirit, a _wild_ thing."

Her upturned eyes find his, dark and familiar, warm and tender, with something else that makes his heart burst with such emotion. She gives him a dazzling smile, one that shows off her perfect pearly whites and shows off her sincerity in her words. It takes his breath away how divine she looked in that moment—among the melting snow and sudden waves of fresh grass, as if she's really Holly Golightly, a woman so charming and doll-like, and he's Paul Varjak, a lowly writer who met her through sheer circumstance but now can't get her out of his mind.

She pauses a minute before planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth. This kiss is supposed to be simple and sweet, but it's far from that. It's her walking on fire, attempting to spark something that should not be sparked. It's exhilarating and risqué and everything taboo all at once. She's gazing at him through her eyelashes, her eyes fluttering at her actions, and he's tightening his grip on her, afraid that she may slip out of his fingers so easily.

They're not sure who leans in first, but they do and suddenly they're kissing. He's harsh and fervent, while she's equally aggressive and adamant. Her hands are lost in the tangles of his hair as his own hands get lost at the map that is her back. He thrives in the fact that her kisses are just desperate as his and, _God_ , why hasn't he done this any sooner? He's seeing stars and Veronica through his closed eyes, he smells Jimmy Choo and Versace with his strong nose, he tastes cinnamon and matte with his tongue and lips… and he thinks that everything about Veronica Lodge is so perfect and invigorating and _real_.

When they part for air, she mumbles out breathlessly, "Wow."

He shakes his head and laughs, because he's clearly intoxicated with her and he's not sure how it came to be but it is, and he feels as if their attempt at reconstructing themselves had suddenly cemented its foundation.

She's laughing without a care in the world as well, eyes creased at the sides, hair swaying along the breeze and lipstick a mess on her lips. Jughead thinks she's never been more beautiful.

* * *

 _end_

 **quick a/n: am i actually shipping the least popular ship on the show? the answer's a proud yes. hope that season 3 gives them more interactions because, if not romantically, they deserve to be close friends. hope you enjoyed this one!**


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